


Solace in the Grievances

by Gadhar



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 10:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gadhar/pseuds/Gadhar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Gordon has faced a lot of things, some worse than others. But every man, even the ones most battle worn need some solace. And rain just doesn't cut it anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solace in the Grievances

**Author's Note:**

> If this doesn't make any sense, I apologize. I'm tired, it's totally random, and I have no idea where it came from.
> 
> Not beta'd, which will probably be very obvious once read.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. But I wish I owned Gordon. It's the mustache.

Somehow, he knew. Gordon knew when he got up this morning that the knot in his stomach was there for a reason, that it wasn't just a hunger pain or a stomach ache. It was some warning of danger given to him by whatever powers may be, if you believed in that, or by fate or destiny if that was your preferance. He just knew it wasn't just some small thing. 

But did he pay heed? No, of course not. He gets a lot of gut feelings, but if he listened to every one...well, a lot would be different, and not necessarily for the better. 

So even though the universe had begged him to stay in bed, he got up, he showered, he dressed, he drank coffee and went to work, then had some more coffee. So far no divine beings had dropped a shoe on him. Until now. 

What spurs the reaction is not the sight, surprisingly, or even the smell. It's the weather, the sound of it. The rain pattering down, like 'angels pissing on the world' as Bullock had once said, was loud and deafening. Overwhelming. Consuming. It drowned out all else and dragged Gordon down into a pit of calm, one he forgot existed. 

"Montoya...handle this." His voice is little more than a whisper, little more than something human, and later he'll be glad Montoya was close enough to hear him because he didn't have the will to say anything else. 

Gordon's steps are careful, purposeful on the surface, maybe even truly. He's simply running without actually doing it. He needs to get away. The bodies piled up like some damn temple, beneath the foot of Zsasz, posing like a fucking king. It's too close, too close to the unit, to Danny*, to what could've been and what had been. He thought he'd never see anything like it again, but, there it was, right around the corner. 

"Jim?" Batman's voice is louder than usual, more grating, that coupled with the fact he uses Gordon's first name tells him somethng's wrong. 

Gordon wants to ask 'What is it?' but the words won't form on his lips, they just flow right past his lips, like a waterfall, coming out as some garbled mess that even he has to wonder just what he was trying to say. 

"Come on." Batman's hand, strong and still on his wrist, is then what makes Gordon realize he's shaking. Shaking and wet. The rain seems to have gotten heavier since he left the crime scene only moments before but as the scene changes, blurs of trees and cars and buildings, Jim realizes that maybe it hadn't been only a few moments. The light of dawn pushing through the clouds, meager and weak, is what tells him hours have past. Hours where Jim has moved from being in a soaking wet suit in a dark alley near a bloodbath at two in the morning to a cushy chair, wearing sweat pants at roughly six a.m. 

The rain's stopped, however long ago he's not really sure, but it stopped and with it the pounding hammer that had attacked his ears, his brain, leaving a minor headache in it's wake. Jim wonders about Zsasz, if they got him booked and caged, if notifications had been made, if...if the bodies had been cleaned up. 

"Master James, your ordered tea." 

Jim turns slowly, raking his eyes over Alfred, ever immaculate in his pressed pants and jacket. So he was at the manor, that explained the cushy chair, Lord knows Jim doesn't have anything that posh or cozy. 

"I didn't...I didn't order any tea." 

Alfred blinks slowly, an eyebrow raised and Jim feels unbelievably small. The butler is utterly unimpressed and undeterred. "Your tea." He repeats and backs out of the room with a flourish without actually doing anything flourish-y. 

"I thought you wanted some classic Earl Grey tea, you said so on the drive here." 

"I did?" Jim doesn't even bother asking how long Bruce was there, he knows that it doesn't really matter. 

"Yeah...we had a whole conversation about it, then you crashed in the backseat, out like a light . Don't you remember?" Bruce is fixing him a concerned stare, blue eyes bright and alert. 

"No." 

The answer seems to disappoint Bruce beyond belief.

"I don't even remember leaving the crime scene. What happened? Did Montoya secure Zsasz okay? Were there any problems? What about the victims? H-" 

"Gordon." 

"-ave the notifications been made? Was everyone accounted for?-" 

" _Gordon._ " 

"Did Montoya do the report? When are the burials? Did someone-" 

" _Jim!_ What happened?" 

"I..." Jim considers saying 'What?' again but he knows Bruce will just glare. Cold and detached. "I haven't seen anything like it since Chicago." He says instead because he's not really sure what else to say, how to explain it. He doesn't even know what he's explaining. 

Bruce's whole stance relaxes and his eyes soften as he moves around to sit on the arm of Jim's chair, close but not lurking. Somehow it makes Gordon feel better. 

"The bodies, so many in one spot. The same thing happened back then, but it was a cop that time, one of mine. My partner was at the top of his pile." 

"Jim..." Bruce's voice is so soft and dripping with sadness, with understanding and concern. His hand lays lightly on Jim's shoulder and Gordon leans into the touch, even as he turns away from the voice. 

"No, it's not...it's the rain. The sound. I don't remmeber anything from that day, I can just recite the reports. But the rain, I remember that. It looked ready to swallow up the earth that day, flood the streets and consume everything. It suffocated me that day. I almost enjoyed it. It was so....calm. Even in a torrent of wind and pounding rain it was calm. Even standing there in front of dozens dead, it was calm. For once. No distractions, no feelings, no chaos, just rain." 

"Like today." 

"Like today." 

"A man who has been through bitter experiences and travelled far enjoys even his sufferings after a time."** 

"What?" 

"Something Alfred always told me. It's from the Odyssey, Homer I believe. I always took it to mean that men find solace in what they can, even on the darkest of days." 

"I hated the rain back then." 

"My point exactly. We don't lead glamorous lives Jim, and your partner...seeing that..." 

"So I took the lesser of two evils. And I like rain now." 

"You like rain now." Bruce's thumb dragged lightly under his eye, brushing away tears Jim hadn't known had fallen. He was shaking again and Jim cursed himself for it, much to the annoyance of Bruce who tutted and wrapped Jim in two solid arms. 

"I like you more than rain." 

**Author's Note:**

> * = a character I randomly created as Gordon's partner. Not meant to reflect any fictional character already established in any Batman universe.  
> ** = As said, a quote from the Odyssey by Homer. I hear it's a great read, I wouldn't know though, never read it.


End file.
